


A Ruse

by noodlecatposts



Series: The Darlings [2]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Dark/Angst Warnings, Darlings AU Companion Piece, F/M, Peaky Blinders AU, Sort of Elriel?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:33:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22823353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noodlecatposts/pseuds/noodlecatposts
Summary: Azriel visits one of his spies.
Relationships: Elain Archeron & Azriel
Series: The Darlings [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1640746
Comments: 4
Kudos: 24





	A Ruse

**Author's Note:**

> Companion piece for my fic the Darlings.  
> Drabble set in my Darlings AU.

Azriel doesn’t like leaving his family’s side of the city, but sometimes it’s a necessary evil.

He enters the nondescript rowhouse with a smile. There’s no need to be secretive; everyone knows what goes on in this home. It’s better to own the reason you’re there than to be ashamed of it. If anyone were to think that Azriel was ashamed of coming here, they’d use it against him. Against the family. And that wouldn’t work for Azriel.

An older woman greets him by name. She’s an aged beauty with wisps of grey hair and enchanting green eyes that can still draw men in from across the room. Alma still has a way with men; Azriel’s seen her in action.

“She’ll be just a few more minutes,” Alma tells him politely.

Azriel nods once. Another woman approaches him with a glass of brandy. He accepts the drink and makes a show of examining the woman’s armor of lace. Nothing more than a featherlight bra and a pair of diaphanous tap pants. Not much left to the imagination.

“Eliza here is available,” Alma tells him coyly, like a regular salesman, “if you’d rather not wait.”

Azriel turns his honeyed eyes on the madame. “No, thank you.”

“You men are all the same,” she teases with a false laugh. Alma isn’t actually amused; she’s judging him. “You all always have a favorite.”

–

Alma leads him to a room in the back after he finishes his drink. A few moments later, Elain appears in the doorway, wearing a bright, if tired, smile on her face. Those chocolate eyes drink in the sight of him; her cheeks are freshly powdered. Hair neatly redone. It’s not an easy life she’s chosen, but according to Elain, it’s the one she wants. The free one.

“I wasn’t expecting you,” she tells him in her soft voice. She approaches and helps Azriel shed his jacket, folding it neatly over the back of a chair. “But it’s a nice surprise, just the same.”

This is the part where things become murky. Azriel lets Elain undress him with her practiced hands, and Elain undoes her garter, removes her underwear. Azriel always makes her keep the slip, the stockings too. It’s a foolish attempt to save her modesty, not that it seems like Elain has any more of that.

They keep up the charade, climbing into bed and intertwining their limbs, but even as the bed creaks and Elain pretends to moan in pleasure, they don’t actually have sex.

Azriel doesn’t have a lot of time on his hands; he needs to get back to his family, check on the disaster unfolding in Velaris territory. He tells her to finish, and Elain pretends to do so with a giggle and a keening noise that makes Azriel’s blood heat despite himself.

“I was only trying to protect your reputation,” she teases. Azriel glares at her.

“What do you have for me?” Azriel asks, accepting the drink she offers him.

They curl up together. Azriel rests his chin on her stomach while she talks and plays with his hair; they need to look like lovers in the event someone ever barges in. They’d look pretty convincing, he thinks. With his pants undone and low on his hips and Elain’s hair all mussed.

His eyes stray from her face while he listens to her recap the gossip she’s collected. Most of it isn’t particularly useful. Its idle information like which copper has been in the brothel this week. His brain always takes note of the ones Elain admits are rough with the girls—with her. Azriel will take them out when he gets the chance.

“You can touch me if you’d like,” Elain offers, voice sweet and innocent when she catches Azriel’s gaze trailing the lace that lines the neckline of her nightgown. “It’s what you’re paying for.”

They both know that isn’t true, but the hourly sum he pays Alma covers their little deal. Elain would be the one to pay if anybody uncovered that she worked for Azriel as a spy. That they weren’t back here in the finest room of the brothel having sex, but rather garnering secrets, making plans.

His eyes dart to hers, flushing. “We both know that’s just a ruse.”

Elain shrugs off his words and takes his hand in hers. She pulls his hand towards the deep vee of her nightgown. Azriel’s body goes tense with the gesture, but Elain hesitates a hairsbreadth away from her skin. She doesn’t force him to touch her, waits for him to close the distance between them himself, to brush the backs of his own knuckles against her skin.

Elain gasps when his calloused, scarred skin makes contact. Azriel pulls away quickly; color rises high on his cheekbones.

“It’s okay,” Elain tells him, soothingly. “I… like it.”

Azriel feels unconvinced by her words. “I should go.”

Elain is a whore. She tells every man that comes to her bed how she likes what they do to her. Elain is paid to do so—like he’s paying her now. Even if it is a ruse. Elain is smart enough to know not to scorn him; she’d lose a valuable source of income.

He’s one of her regulars after all, and she’s his favorite. Yet, it’s the tip Azriel gives Elain afterward, after a suitable amount of time locked in the room together and making fake moans and soft groans—that is what Elain is really working for.

She spies for him, and he pays her for it. Another type of selling oneself, but selling oneself just the same.


End file.
